


make in you a new river

by elinciacrimea



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuuin no Tsurugi | Fire Emblem: Binding Blade
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 06:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18733204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elinciacrimea/pseuds/elinciacrimea
Summary: Recovery's a long road. But Idunn's not walking it alone.





	make in you a new river

__When Idunn has nightmares, Fae always comes.

Idunn isn't certain how it is that Fae knows, but every time, without fail, when Idunn wrenches her eyes open, gasping for breath and fighting against covers that had seemed soft and welcoming hours before but now feel like ropes tying her down...every time, the door creaks as Fae pushes it open, there's a soft pad-pad-pat of slippered feet on the floor, and chubby little hands wrap around Idunn's pale, trembling ones. Fae climbs up into Idunn's bed without asking for invitation or even speaking a word, curls up at Idunn's side, and eventually, thumb in mouth, dozes off there. And without fail, Idunn's breathing will slow and calm, Fae's warmth will creep in and ward off that deep, paralyzing chill that seems to live in Idunn's heart, and it will all be okay again, for a little while.

Sophia makes her a calming draught, one she says should halt the nightmares, but it has no effect besides making Idunn drowsy in the daytime. Sophia always wants to help, poring over dusty tomes from Arcadia's libraries that are older than she is, sitting hunched over at her desk taking notes in an elegant but cramped hand that Idunn can't make any sense of. Sophia's always talking, in her slow, steady tones, about Idunn feeling better, getting stronger, getting her memories back, leaving Arcadia, traveling the world. Going home.

There's no home to go back to, Idunn thinks. That home belonged to the Divine Dragons, not the abomination that Idunn is now. Besides, Idunn can hardly remember it - a kind smile, a gentle hand on her hair - no, if Idunn has any family left on the other side, it's better to stay away. They've mourned her and moved on. Idunn's made peace with that.

Besides, Idunn likes it in Arcadia. She likes living in Sophia and Fae's little cottage, where it's warm and cozy and Sophia makes breakfast and they do chores and study and go to market or explore the desert or pick flowers. Idunn can't walk very far or stand for very long without the headaches coming on, and sometimes they have to fetch the Guardian to carry her home when Idunn's legs simply refuse to keep going. But Fae and Sophia don't mind, and they set up picnics on the kitchen floor or decorate the living room with ribbons or build forts out of pillows on the sofa and bake little pies to eat inside. Whatever they do, even if it's just lying in Sophia's big bed together and looking at picture books, Idunn never feels alone.

Fae's always teaching Idunn new things, too. Today's lesson is how to plant her own fruits and harvest them, Fae singing little songs as she digs industriously with her tiny trowel. Eventually, she gets distracted and wanders off, turning into the fluffy chick-form of a baby Divine Dragon and scaring a few desert snakes with puffs of flame. Idunn hasn't dared touch a dragonstone. She doesn't know what would come out - the elegant white feathers of the Divine or the craggy steel-violet scales of the Dark. Either answer terrifies her.

It's okay, Sophia says. They'll figure it all out. Idunn's alive, and she's talking and walking and feeling again, and those are all miracles, miracles nobody thought were possible a century ago.

A century. Idunn had wanted to thank the mysterious Roy and his Binding Blade, only for Sophia to shake her head. By the time Idunn was conscious enough to ask, Roy was long in the ground. Humans don't last long, and Idunn has become familiar with that fact. Fae is always asking about different people, names Idunn has never known, and Sophia always just says that they went away. It's easier, because Fae is so little, too little to understand.

Idunn wonders if Fae knows a bit more than Sophia wants her to, but she doesn't push it. Sophia's been with Fae for longer, after all. Idunn still feels like an outsider to Arcadia, eyes and whispers following her in the street. Idunn can't say she blames them, if half of what Sophia and the elders try to hide from her is true.

Idunn doesn't know what, exactly, she did. She remembers, more than anything, darkness. Long stretches of darkness, and cold, with flashes of burning pain. But sometimes there will be vivid streaks, bits of memory resurfacing, and in them there's never anything worth finding - screams, suffering, terrified faces of humans and dragons alike. Blood, blood on her claws, blood that she tore out from other living creatures who didn't deserve it - Idunn doesn't like remembering, but she knows whatever happened, whatever she did...it wasn't anything good. She gets her headaches when the memories come, and if she tries to fight through them she loses her vision, and then she ends up lying on the sofa with a cool cloth over her eyes and Fae stroking her hair with trembling little hands while Sophia brews medicines for the pain.

Sophia is teaching both Idunn and Fae to read, finding stories and secrets hidden in the ink on paper. Idunn loves words. Words help her find paths in the darkness, ways to explain to Sophia where the hurting is coming from. Words are good, even if they're hard sometimes. Sophia is a patient, gentle teacher, even if Idunn's headaches and low stamina keep their progress slow. Fae reads to Idunn in her little voice, brow furrowed as she glares at the pages. Eventually she starts making up her own story, one Idunn likes even better than the printed one. She's a little young for reading, Sophia says, but Idunn doesn't know. After all, Idunn has only the faintest, fleeting memories of her childhood, and her entire adolescence was lost to the dark. She doesn't know much of children, but then, what does she know of adults? Not very much at all. Just like a child, for her every day is a new thing to learn - how to wash a dish, how to gather water from the oasis, how to braid Sophia's long hair into dozens of little plaits that Fae hides under, giggling.

Fae's always busy. She makes herself and Idunn matching bracelets out of tiny blue beads she saved her allowance for at the market, and weaves wildflowers into rather lopsided crowns that she proudly puts on all their heads, and it's a funny sight watching Sophia walk off to council meetings with a wreath of dandelions tangled in her long hair. Fae paints pictures of them all together and Sophia tacks them up on the wall with pins. Idunn likes the pictures - they're brighter and more colorful than the real world, and there's no hint of the lurking darkness. If Fae really sees the world that way, it's no wonder her smiles are so big, her eyes so innocent. Idunn understands why Sophia wants to protect that innocence. Idunn does, too.

Maybe Roy saved Idunn's life, but Idunn thinks Fae saved her heart.

Sophia won't live forever, she says to Idunn sometimes after Fae has gone to bed. She's still got a long time to go, but she's only half a dragon, and that means she's much closer to mortal than a full one. Once Sophia's gone, Idunn and Fae will still have each other, and that's important. Sophia's happy Idunn came to Arcadia, because Fae's going to outlive everyone else living there, and with Idunn there she won't have to be alone for a long, long time. Idunn remembers that, when the dark and pain are suffocating her. She has to keep going, for Fae. Be Fae's big sister. The title "Fae's big sister" sounds a lot nicer than "Dark Dragon," or even "Divine Dragon," Idunn thinks.

Some days are worse than others. Sometimes the pain hits as soon as Idunn opens her eyes and she spends the whole day curled in bed, fighting against the darkness and the memory and the deep, freezing, scalding hurt. On those days, Sophia will gently leave medicine and food on the side table, even if Idunn doesn't eat much of it. Fae will pick flowers and leave them in a jar of water near the table, or tuck one of her most ragged and love-worn stuffed animals into bed next to Idunn, on top of her pillow, and the sight of it makes tears leak out of Idunn's aching eyes. And when the storm passes and morning comes again, Idunn will drag herself off the mattress and out into the sitting room, and Fae will hug her legs and Sophia will pass her breakfast and say she's always here if Idunn needs to talk.

Idunn doesn't want to talk, even if she needs to. She's ashamed and scared and she doesn't want more memories, she confesses to Sophia one night over cocoa, Fae fast asleep under Sophia's cape on the sofa behind them. Sophia reaches out and squeezes Idunn's hand and just says in her slow, gentle way that they can take as long as Idunn needs, and ripping a wound open won't help it heal faster. Little steps, Sophia says, are still steps, and every step counts. They're here for her. They don't mind, even if she never gets any better. But she will get better, Sophia says. Think of how much better she is now than when she came! And that is a great thought, because Idunn remembers when there was always, always dark and now the dark only comes sometimes. And those sometimes are hard, and scary, and suffocating, and there are times when Idunn thinks it would be easier to lie in them forever, just let it open up and suck her in and never get out of bed again.

But in the dark, there will always be a warm, gentle hand, and being reminded there's something to fight for is enough for Idunn to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Just a little, rather personal drabble that happened to spring into my mind almost fully formed, and I went with it.
> 
> Title - "New River," The Oh Hellos.


End file.
